


Gaiden: Reiwa Kamen Rider

by DangerousCommieSubversive



Series: Gaiden: Tokusatsu Prompt Fics [4]
Category: Kamen Rider Saber
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:01:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29334207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/DangerousCommieSubversive
Summary: A collection of short tokusatsu prompt fiction, centered around Reiwa Era Kamen Rider shows.Individual chapters are marked for their show. Collection as a whole is unrated; anything NSFW or otherwise potentially mature will be marked with an (M).
Relationships: Ogami Ryou/Daishinji Tetsuo
Series: Gaiden: Tokusatsu Prompt Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145267
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Gaiden: Reiwa Kamen Rider

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware that this "collection" currently contains only one fic, but I didn't want to throw it in with the Heisei collection, and I'm sure I'll be writing more Saber fic at some point, and Zero-One as well once I've watched it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryou needs a distraction from the turmoil of the moment, and goes to visit Tetsuo to talk about old times, and maybe relive some of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not a prompt, I just wrote it in a desperate fit of Needing That Content So I Will Make It Myself.
> 
> Contains: sexy bookbinding, back massage, a fairly low-key sex scene, gentle Rintaro teasing

Ryo appears in the doorway, and Tetsuo doesn’t even look up from his work. “Shouldn’t you be home with your son?”

“He’s staying at a friend’s for the night so they can work on a project together, I’ll pick him up tomorrow when school lets out.” Uninvited, Ryo steps into the room anyway, pulling over a chair and settling into it backwards, arms folded along the top of the backrest as he watches Tetsuo pull a needle carefully through the signatures of the book he’s rebinding. “What are you fixing today?”

“Agrippa. The Fourth Book of Occult Philosophy.” Tetsuo still hasn’t looked up. He’s too intent on what he’s doing, hands on the book press like it’s a lover to be treated with delicacy instead of a tool. “It’s needed this for some time, but for some reason it just never felt like the moment before.”

“You needed a distraction.”

Tetsuo doesn’t answer.

Ryo doesn’t press. He sits and watches as Tetsuo finishes sewing together signatures, pastes together strips of stiff paper to make a hollow spine, cuts cover boards and soft leather and beautifully marbled endpapers with surgical precision. The workshop smells, not unpleasantly, of the glue Tetsuo makes himself and the coffee he drinks too much of, and the movements of his hands are hypnotic. All this love and care, going into a book that few people will ever even get a glimpse of, let alone handle enough to appreciate his craftsmanship.

When Tetsuo pushes his chair back, leaving behind a book half-bound on the tabletop, it’s gone two in the morning, and he glances back over his shoulder at Ryo and says, “You have a home to go to.”

“Sure, but this was my home before that was.” Ryo gets up from his chair with a wince and stretches. “And that one feels real empty when it’s just me.”

“Get a cat, then,” and Tetsuo reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes but doesn’t seem at all surprised when Ryo catches his wrist. Just, “It’s been a long time.”

“Sure has. Eleven years, maybe? Twelve?”

“Thirteen. Since before you met her.”

“You still mad at me about that?”

“I was never mad at you about that. You were happy.”

No reply, or at least nothing verbal. Ryo doesn’t let go of Tetsuo’s wrist, just looks at it, presses a callused thumb into Tetsuo’s equally callused palm. After a moment he tugs, lightly, and Tetsuo turns in his chair very slightly and allows a kiss pressed to the heel of his hand. His fingers curl to brush Ryo’s cheek. Ryo says, “Feels like everything’s repeating itself,” against his skin. “Gates opening in the sky, another swordsman lost, and you’re Slash again.”

The corner of Tetsuo’s mouth twitches as if it can’t decide whether to go up or down. “All stories have cycles. Ours is just an especially cruel one.”

Ryo lets go of his wrist, rests both hands on his shoulders. “Sure, I guess. You’re still as tense as ever. Need me to beat you up?”

Tetsuo tips his head back and not-quite-grins, gazing just past Ryo’s face to the ceiling. “You make it sound so romantic.”

* * *

Ryo says, “You actually might be _more_ tense than you were, your back’s fulla lumps.”

“Mnh,” Tetsuo says into the pillow. “I have a stressful job.”

“Yeah, we all do.” Ryo digs his thumbs into a particularly hard knot in one muscle, listening in satisfaction as Tetsuo lets out a grunt. “That’s the Sword of Logos, yeah?”

“Personally, _I_ would be less tense if you hooligans treated your equipment better— _ow._ ”

“Or you could stress out less anyway, we treat our equipment just fine.”

Tetsuo makes an irritated noise that trails off into a much more contented hum as Ryo works the knot out. _Just as much like a stray cat as he always was,_ Ryo thinks as he searches out the next one. _Scratches at the drop of a hat, but you pet him right and he starts purring._ Or not purring, exactly, there aren’t many noises, but the physical response to the massage seems roughly describable as _melting._

Still—he hesitates when he gets to Tetsuo’s waist, where the other man’s overalls have been tugged down far enough to expose his back but no farther. Pet him and he might start purring, but he’s no friendlier to trespass than any other cat, or any other human, for that matter. “So do I get to take these off tonight, or am I crashing in one of the spare bedrooms now I’m done pounding on you?”

Tetsuo looks back at him over one shoulders, gaze lowered just enough to avoid eye contact but not so much that it seems like he’s not looking at Ryo at all. “Rintaro might hear us.”

“Never bothered you before.”

“Before he was 10 and just got worried that one of us was having bad dreams. Now he’s old enough to know exactly what’s going on.”

“And way too polite to say anything about it, what’s your point?”

One of those tiny laughs, barely anything. “Then sure. Take them off. If we’re reliving old times.”

* * *

They map out the scars on each other’s bodies. Tiny ones on Tetsuo’s hands and arms from sparks thrown by his various tools, larger ones on his stomach and legs that have mostly faded with over a decade away from combat, claw-shaped ones on Ryo’s chest and back and ones from blades on his biceps and ribs and a long, jagged line down his left thigh. _That_ one Tetsuo measures with his tongue, and gets that sly smile that Ryo so rarely gets to see nowadays, and it’s been such a long time since Ryo did this with _anyone,_ let alone _him,_ which apparently makes it his turn to get noisy.

* * *

So of course Rintaro is already awake when Ryo wanders out to get coffee in the morning, sitting at the kitchen table in the North Base living quarters eating toast with jam and reading a book. Ryo just nods to him, sets about finding two coffee cups, and does his level best not to betray anything when Rintaro says, as innocently as possible, “I haven’t seen you here this early in a while. Bad dreams?”

“We all get bad dreams now.” Ryo finds cups, turns to the coffee maker—and finds that there’s a pot already on. “You don’t drink coffee.”

“There’s enough for both of you.” Rintarou doesn’t look up from his book, which is good, because if he’s smiling at all Ryo might lose it.

Ryo pours two cups and squints at him until something else becomes evident. “You didn’t make coffee for us.”

Rintaro blinks. “What do you—”

“Mei drinks coffee, don’t she?”

Rintaro claps a hand to the side of his neck, not quite concealing the mark Ryo had spotted. “I don’t know what you mean.”


End file.
